


The things we do for love

by LadyMD



Series: Honor made you leave, and honor brought you back. [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post Season 7, Post reunion in Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 19:03:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11996043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMD/pseuds/LadyMD
Summary: The Dragon Queen's party brought by Jon Snow finally arrived in Winterfell and as expected, Daenerys and Jon had been met with suspicion. It was only through Sansa that they have managed an accord, at least for a night. Feeling the weight of his decision with its consequences and the apparent drift in their relationship, Jon tried to seek out Sansa in private to thank her for her loyalty but most of all explain and apologize but he found that she wasn't alone in her chambers. Her new sworn shield, newly defected Jaime Lannister was with her and this was where he found himself privy to a conversation he wasn't meant to hear.





	The things we do for love

**Author's Note:**

> I caved. I wanted more Jamie swearing fealty to Sansa and twisting Jon's guts and went ahead and wrote one myself. It's mainly angsty and doesn't really humorously bring out Jon's jealousy but I wanted to really twist his guts here. Hope you guys like it. Heads up. It's hot off the press and likely to have typos here and there. I'll clean in the morning.

 

 

 

> **Edmure Tully: Do you imagine yourself a decent person? How do you live with yourself? All of us have to believe that we're decent, don't we? You have to sleep at night. How do you tell yourself that you're decent after everything that you've done?**
> 
> **  
>  ** **Jaime Lannister: I'll leave the judgments to the gods. The things we do for love.**
> 
> **\- GoT S06E08**

 

> * * *

 

 

**_"You do too much."_ **

A scoff.  _"You should know by now, what I do or don't do would ever be-"_ A pause and a tired sigh. 

Jon's knuckle remained raised before her door but voices from inside stopped him. 

He recognized the voices.

Her voice would be all that he would recognize no matter where or when. It was the voice that kept him alive ever since he was brought back. 

It was the  _only_ voice that brought about warmth in him when all he's felt since he left Winterfell was cold and colder still.

 

> _"You are to me."_
> 
> _"You're good at it you know."_
> 
> _"You are. You **are."**_

Now because of his decisions, the voice he had come to rely on when he felt adrift and unworthy was gone. _Gone._  To him and only him.

When she spoke to him at all, all he feels is cold and pain. His and hers. He knew what he did. He knew that she was loyal but he also knew she'd feel betrayed despite of it. And as expected, she chose loyalty. Over and over. She was the only one here who stood by his decisions. She was the one who placated the lords and ladies. She did all that was expected of her and more but while he had her loyalty, he lost everything else with her. Everything that mattered more.  

He meant to speak with his sister in private and beg for peace or at least a chance for it - a chance for even the slightest semblance of what they had before he made the mistake of going South.

_" **Then why do you even bother?"**_

He was jerked back to the moment at the other voice that he also recognized, sickeningly velvety voice that did not hide the frustration...nor the concern lacing it. A voice that never failed to make him feel guilt, shame, and rage all boiled into one. And hearing him talk so familiarly almost sent him to the edge of his control. 

He wanted nothing more than to burst in and draw his sword at him but he knew he'd lost that right the moment he gave her home away. She'd asked no questions. No explanations. Just continued to support his decision. So who was he to demand answers from her too? 

Who was he to ask why she chose to let this man into her tightly held trust? 

No, he can't threaten a shield and sword she's chosen to arm herself with. Just another layer of protection she chose after her courtesies and he knew it meant a great deal for her to allow that when she made it clear to him that no one can protect her and that he himself should stop trying.

 And he did promise her. He promised her he would stop protecting her if she stopped undermining him. And she hasn't. Not once. Not like he made the effort to give her a chance to anyway, he thought with guilt. He made all his decisions himself and he has to live with it. And now she expects him to uphold his end of the promise. 

He can't, of course, but he'll have to give her  _this._ He owed her this much. No. He owed her even more that he didn't think he'd ever pay her back what she deserved even if he died for it. He knows he should leave and afford them privacy but he's a damn weak fool. And he still thinks to stay and intervene if need be, no matter the consequence of another foolish decision. If  _he_ hurts her, he'll end him.  _This_ is what he uses to rationalize his staying when in fact he's here because he wants to  _know._ Know how deep she let  _him_ in. 

He was all but ready to receive her rage and her sharp words but he guessed that this was another way she could give him the hurt he surely deserved for betraying her in his bid to _protect_ her. 

So he stayed. 

He listened. 

Through the crack of the door to her bedroom, he could see her standing in front of her window, her back to her sworn shield who was only a hair's breath behind her, arms crossed in front of his chest while his eyes never left his lady. 

She was standing, back as straight as ever, her flawless face devoid of emotion as she looked out into the snow storm billowing outside, the dull flicker of the fire from the hearth casting a dull light on her profile, leaving half of her in the shadows. Still she did not answer. 

Her knight dropped his arms at his side and let out a breath of frustration, his face contorting into a scowl. "Sansa, _why_ do you even bother?" he repeated. Jon's blood bubbled at how her name rolled so easily from  _his_ tongue. Such insolence! 

He saw her stiffen, her hands clasping against each other in front of her lap yet she did not turn, not until after a few more breaths when finally her facade started softening slightly, at the give her tired sigh did. "It's not a matter of _why_ I bother, Jaime," she said so softly that Jon could barely hear but he heard. Her heard her loud and clear. He heard  _his_ name leave so softly from her lips and that felt more of a stab to his heart than any one of the daggers he took for the Watch. 

She braced her hands on the window sill and hunched slightly, her eyes closing tightly. "I am only doing my duty."

" _Duty?_ Fuck, duty!" Ser Jaime raged as he walked closer to her. "You are _still_ the Lady of Winterfell. You were  _here_ all those time preparing for your people when grains were being burnt, men were being killed. And it is by  _you_ that your people are even still following  _him._ If you have any sense at all, you'd take the crown your people have been offering you time and time again!" 

She whirled around and glared at him then, her face glorious in her fury. "I will  _not_ betray my brother. I will  _not._  Nor will I _ever._ "

Jon was taken aback and despite the sudden wave of affection that washed over him at her words, it was easily overshadowed by his guilt and shame. He didn't deserve this kind of devotion. He didn't deserve anything but for this rage to be directed onto him but they weren't. They were  _for_ him. And that cut deeper than anything else. 

Even the Kingslayer looked surprised while his lady stared him down, daring him to contest her as her mouth set into a firm line, her blue eyes blazing, despite her chest heaving heavily. But in a moment, the Kingslayer's eyes widened in recognition before turning soft and understanding. Understand what? What could he possibly understand? What could he possibly recognize? How could he possibly hold a look that  _knows?_

Jon continued to watch. Gently,  Jaime raised his good hand and approached as one would approach a wary animal, his eyes not breaking contact with hers, the flames making their blue and green eyes almost matching in their lightness, until slowly, his hand reached her cheek and held so softly and tentatively- Jon knew he did. 

And as if all the fight was drained from her, Sansa closed her eyes and allowed the touch she never allowed anyone but from himself before with one deep and pained breath and whimper. 

She stood there still but not stiff yet not quite soft either, seemingly only held up with Ser Jaime's hand on her cheek. It was only when he dared stroke his thumb over her cheek that she opened her eyes and gave a tiny nod, that was the only sign he needed to draw her to him. Jon almost sucked in a breath from the shock of her action, finding it harder and harder to breath at what was unfolding before him.

How could _he_ have known what to do? How could _he_ have with just one touch unhinge her so when not even Jon himself could break into her thick walls without trying with his best effort yet here was the _Kingslayer_ , an _oathbreaker_ many times over, who helped the destruction of their family, who, with just one touch _got_ her to come to _him_ this easily?  

It wasn't even much of an embrace, not like the ones he shared with her, yet it might as well had been. It was only her head on his chest and his hand cupping the back of her head but the sight of it killed Jon all the same. Their embraces were more but this barely there touch felt too intimate for simple comfort. There were volumes of unspoken things between Sansa and Jaime. Things that only came to be if Sansa allowed it so with her trust and the knowledge of his understanding that felt to Jon she  _needed._

He knew Sansa hated it when other people, men or women touched her. Yet here she was, accepting without much protest, if any at all. And even more shocking was how much he saw that Jaime cared.

His eyes widened as he saw Jaime's jaw was clenched as if he was trying to reign in his anger or frustration or maybe both, while his eyes looked at her with tenderness and sympathy and was that pain as well? Why? Why did he? If he truly knew Sansa, he wouldn't dare look at her with something close to pity. 

When Jon looked at Sansa, he only saw strength. Pity had no place beside her but maybe that was his first mistake.  

 

> _"Kill the boy_ ,  _Jon Snow_... _Kill the boy and let the man be born."_

He thought that was what she was trying hard to do but he knew better that you don't get to kill the boy so easily. Deep inside, he was still that boy - still very much a part of him. It was too much to think that the little girl with songs and stories in her eyes had truly died in Sansa too. Because he could see it all clearly now. 

She may be formidable and a well equipped ruler, but it was the compassion, her ability to love greatly as her mother did for he knew even if he did not experience it that Lady Catelyn loved fiercely, and the loyalty and honor as their father had that kept her from being a tyrant. She did not believe in heroes anymore, but it did not apply in her wanting to be as far from the monsters she suffered from. Monsters hardened her heart but had not blackened it. 

And now people were starting to see that. It was true, what the Kingslayer said. If she wanted the crown to the North, she'd only have to say yes because he knew it was regularly offered to her. She didn't even need to ask. He knew. He was aware all this time but he couldn't give it to her, not without causing unrest with his alliance with Dany.  _Dany,_ he felt guilty again. It wasn't right. Wasn't right to call her that. Yet he did all the same. He made his choice. When Sansa looked at him, he could hear her unspoken reminder.  _You made your choice._ And he would honor it. And he knew, guiltily again, that Sansa would not turn against him. He had doubts before, he admits it. But if Sansa wanted to betray him and she had cause to do so, she would've done it already. He didn't deserve her loyalty, wouldn't even begrudge her if she turned on him, but he needed it.

For the sake of the realm. 

For  _her_ sake.

Jaime removed his hand from the back of her head and tilted her chin up with his finger, making Jon's insides twist agonizingly yet he stood rooted to his spot as he watched on as Jaime coaxed Sansa into meeting his eyes. 

"Sansa," he said in a voice that was painfully too tender and that was all he needed to say for Sansa to lift her eyes to him and what Jon saw shattered him. Even from far away, he knew. From the way her body slouched, her brow furrowed, her lips trembled, her eyes were likely filled with sadness and exhaustion.

He saw Jaime look gutted as well but was shocked once more when Jaime lifted a corner of his mouth into a kind but pained almost wry smile. "I  _know."_

And those two words were enough for Sansa to crumble.

Slowly, it happened, a few silent drops of tears forming then flowing for a few breaths until one choked sob escaped and she was clinging to Jaime in an instant, her hands fisting against his doublet, while her head was bowed against his chest. 

Jaime's eyes were tight and his face stoic as he held her, his right arm wrapped around her trembling back, while his left hand stroked her hair gently. "I know, Lady Stark, I know," he crooned and though he addressed her formally, the title almost felt an endearment and Jon felt like a drowning man gasping for breath, struggling with his footing as the feeling of being replaced started dawning on him, suffocating him. 

_This should've been you._

_This should've been you protecting her from tears._

_This should've been you._

"I can't betray him," she said through gritted teeth in between sobs. 

Jaime said nothing, only held her and after a moment she started speaking again, her voice hoarse from crying and also exhaustion. 

"They all thought I'd betray him. Even Arya. And I'm sure he thought so too. And even if the thought occurred to me, I never, not once, believed I'd actually do it," she continued, her voice sounding firmer and firmer. 

She let out a deep breath then, her knees giving out but Jaime caught her instantly, allowing her to lean on him as they half-knelt on the floor. She loosened her hold and looked down defeated. "I can't betray him...not even if I wanted to. W-which I don't. I never wanted that. I never  _did._ Not once. Not  _ever."_

He saw Jaime grit his teeth and stiffen before he forced himself to relax and stroke Sansa's hair. "The things we do for love," he whispered and Jon saw it again, pain and regret on Jaime's eyes. 

Sansa closed her eyes then and gave the most resigned nod he never expected to see. "Aye."

And Jon almost felt his own knees go out as well as the implication of what he just heard crashed into him. 

Surely he was mistaken? 

Surely she meant something else? 

She couldn't possibly--

He stopped thinking then when he saw Jaime tilt her face once more and he leant down. "Pain doesn't suit you, Lady Stark. I'm doing a bad job at being your sword and shield when you're in pain just the same."

That brought a tiny lift to one corner of Sansa's mouth. 

"Ah. There it is. Well, I'm not completely useless after all," Jaime smiled more genuinely even if his eyes still held some tightness in them.

Both corners turned up now. "You're far from useless, Ser Jaime."

Jaime sighed then and brought out a handkerchief to wipe her tears. "Your pain is a special kind of pain that I know terribly more than well enough," he said bitterly causing Sansa to regard him closely but she averted her eyes as she let him wipe her cheek. 

"Does it get...better?" she asked so softly Jon almost didn't hear.

Jaime sighed. "It gets worse, I'm sorry."

Sansa sighed as well. "I suppose I already knew that."

Sansa didn't see Jaime looking like a burning man then, making him pause from his action. But before Sansa looked up at him, he schooled his features into his usual smirk. "I'm doing a bad job again."

Sansa blinked then a laugh escaped from her. It was just the one and she clamped her mouth right away and Jon was struck dumb from the novelty of it. When was the last time he heard her laugh? And then he soured again that it was  _Jaime Lannister_ who made her laugh and  _him_ the cause of her tears, he knew that now.

"Ah. Now you are only trying to make me feel better. I am truly an ass at this, Lady Stark," Jaime grinned.

Sansa smiled at him more genuinely that Jon felt torn from feeling hatred at the Lannister and tenderness that she could still smile truly. 

Jaime looked at her more seriously then, his eyes resigned as he cupped her face, drawing a gasp from her. 

"I know your pain, Sansa. And I have sworn to protect you from everything that may harm you and that includes the war in your heart and mind. I do not presume to be a substitute or a replacement. But I am at your disposal, my lady. Whatever you ask of me, I'll do it. Whatever it is. May it be... of small comfort or not. I am yours to command. _Whatever_ it is you need. May it be wrong or not. Whatever it is you _need_ to ease some of your pain, I will try. No, I _will_ obey."

Jon held his breath and looked sharply at Sansa then and saw her eyes wide, her mouth hung, and her posture tense as she took in Jaime's words. 

"I know what can make you happy, but you know I can't give you that so ask something else and I'll do my best to give it to you Sansa," he vowed.

Sansa looked up sharply at him and met his eyes. "I _am_  happy.I am. My two brothers are alive. Arya is alive. I'm in Winterfell. I'm still alive. I'm  _home,"_ she insisted but it felt more like her trying to convince herself. "It should be enough. It  _is_ enough. More than I could ever hope for." 

Jaime dropped his hand and smiled proudly at her. "And this is why you are better than the rest of us," he breathed. "Lady Stark."

Sansa smiled grimly at him. 

"Still, just ask," he repeated.

Sansa looked down, shut her eyes, then nodded. "Thank you...Jaime." She lifted her eyes then, looking at Jaime so softly Jon felt the world fall on him, crushing him and there was no escape. 

Jaime stood up then and offered his hand to her. 

Sansa took it and allowed him to help her up, their eyes never breaking from each other's gaze. 

When Sansa moved to pull her hand away, Jaime grasped it back, making her look from their hands to his face in silent question. 

Jaime smiled at her then and bent down to kiss her knuckles, and Jon saw the way Sansa's cheeks colored. 

This was his cue to leave when he saw Jaime release her with a bow of his head and started turning towards the door. 

He was ready to run when the next thing he heard rooted him on the spot once more. 

"Jaime."

He saw Jaime look at her from his shoulder and he also saw Sansa never looking as vulnerable as she did now, stripped of her shields and walls as she regarded her sworn shield who look just as taken back as he did.

"What-what is it?"

Sansa clasped her hands in front of her and looked down. "C-can you...will you please...stay?" 

Jon barely held back his choke while he watched Jaime look at her for signs of wanting to take back her request when suddenly Sansa looked up and all they could see was resolve in her eyes. "Please. Stay," she whispered. 

Jon darted to see Jaime's face willing him to refuse but Jaime swallowed, his good hand twitching at his side and nodded. "As my lady commands."

And Jon had to move to an alcove when he saw Jamie walk towards the door.

And with one final look, closed it. 

Jon heard the bolt after and he wanted to both run away and tear down the door with his bare hands if need be. 

This cannot be happening. 

There was no way the Sansa he knew would do this. 

She wouldn't. 

She  _wouldn't._

At least not with the Kingslayer. 

Not with an Oathbreaker. 

_But you're an oathbreaker too and when you put an arrow through Mance Rayder's heart, didn't that make you a kingslayer too?_

Jon pulled at his hair as he stared at her door. 

_You made your decision._

_She made hers._

_You drove her to him._

After several deep breaths, he leant his forehead against the door and accepted the sound of garment dropping and the bed dipping from weights. Allowed what was happening on the other side of the door fill him. 

With one final look, he placed his palm on the door, resigned that this was another consequence of his decision, but not without whispering what he never admitted to anyone living. 

"It was all for you."

Then he left. 

To his chambers he went. 

Drinking and crying himself to numbness. 

The weight of his decision weighing heavily and the consequences catching up yet he couldn't do anything but honor them and live with them come morning.

He didn't know that behind her door, Sansa just asked Jaime to hold her. 

Not as a lover would.

But someone who simply cared for her and nothing more.

 


End file.
